


His Religion

by lehulei



Series: Eleven's Era [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Actually Dealing With Issues, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:50:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lehulei/pseuds/lehulei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory didn't have faith. There wasn't really a way to describe it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Religion

"Why did you wait for me?" The low voice cut through the comfortable quiet of a Tuesday evening.

Rory looked up from the medical reports he had brought home from the hospital. His wife stood in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in her pyjamas, fire-red hair falling over her shoulders.

He knew his mouth had opened to respond with some automatic phrase that he'd programmed in since being married but stopped, knowing somehow that it wasn't just a random question based off of some mundane incident in the course of living out a normal life after Demon's Run.

She continued to look at him from her position in the doorway, the light from the corridor outlining her in an almost ethereal glow. Through the dim lighting of his lonely kitchen table light, he saw that her eyes had that scratchy look of having just shed tears. His heart constricted and he pushed away from the table to make his way to her.

"Oh, Amy," he breathed into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her strong but oh so delicate frame. She felt brittle in his arms, as if she would shatter with the barest tap. She didn't respond other then leaning her forehead against his shoulder. He felt the smallest fall and rise of her breathing as he held her.

"Why did you wait for me?" she repeated, tenacious as ever, even in this.

He didn't say anything for a long moment as he stared blindly down the corridor behind her, not seeing the picture frames that lined the walls, nor the homespun rug Amy had insisted on keeping despite its clashing with the rest of the house. Two thousand years of waiting passed before his mind's eye. He hadn't realized that she hadn't asked him in all their time since the Pandorica.

Pulling away, he took in the despair in her green eyes and felt an echo within his chest. Being with the Doctor could be so fantastic and beyond anything ever imagined, but it could also come with a very high price—and it wasn't limited to their lives. He'd died enough times to know that that was never the end. Their little girl, known only to them for less than a day, was separated from them. She cried about it sometimes, like now, but as always, faced the day like it was new, something more to explore and learn. That's what made her different and special. Why she stood out a like a burning flame.

He brought his forehead to hers and in a low but passionate whisper told her why he'd waited for her for two thousand years. It hadn't been because he'd shot her as an Auton and was wracked with the guilt. It hadn't been because she was his fiancée. It hadn't been any of the clichéd and so very human things that had been his life before.

"When someone you've loved since you can remember breathing has died, you'll do anything to guard them, to make sure they make it to the next life or fight for them until they get there. I wasn't going to let you go alone, no matter what anyone said, Amy. You're my wife, my life, the end of the road," his voice cracked, "the mother of my child. I'd wait for you for another two thousand years if that's what it took to make sure you were safe."

She was crying into his shoulder, her arms had come up around his neck and he held her, this woman, his wife: Amy Pond.


End file.
